


What's The Word?

by sevtacular



Category: Holby City
Genre: Eurovision, F/F, Fluff, LGBTQ Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8922196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevtacular/pseuds/sevtacular
Summary: Serena loves Eurovision, and she will not let anyone ruin Kyiv 2017 for her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 'AU where Bernie left Serena to go to Kyiv 2017 so she can watch Eurovision'.

What’s The Word?

Serena Campbell was not going to be disturbed tonight. She sat on her sofa, the television on and a plethora of snacks spread out before her, including a bottle of Shiraz which she was sure she would get through as the evening progressed. This was the one night where she would not let any negative thoughts enter her head, none at all. Especially not any thoughts relating to a certain somebody who she would not name.   
The prelude sounded, that oh so familiar sound, and everything was alright in Serena’s world. She settled back into the cushions as the camera panned over the audience, and the hosts greeted the world:  
“Good evening Europe! And welcome to Kyiv, Ukraine, the best city in the world!”  
Serena twitched at their comments. Kyiv. She had forgotten that’s where Eurovision was this year. Still, she wouldn’t let her hatred of that sodding city and its medical system tamper with her love of the music. She smiled, and as the songs began, she relaxed, all by herself to make the most of this night (Jason had gone to stay at Alan’s, he only liked the voting part at the end and would recap it tomorrow with Serena when he was home). 

Song one was brilliant, as were songs two, three and four. Serena smiled at the diversity of songs. There was definitely some solid competitors this year. Thankfully, there were a few novelty performances, which Serena took absolute delight in. The glitter and glamour was just something she could not get enough of. To her surprise, even the UK had a solid performance, though she doubted that it would be rewarded within the votes, given how unpopular the UK was with Europe presently. Brexit was not something Serena was fond of, when the NHS was already heavily underfunded. Serena sat laughing and cheering along with the audience though, fully immersed in the competition, as she had been every year since divorcing Edward, who had been less than enthusiastic about the pan-European singing contest.

It was during the interval act that she noticed. The camera panned the audience, and a face seemed all too familiar to Serena. A face she hadn’t seen in months, not since she had been kissing those lips and… Serena blotted the thoughts as the camera moved on. It couldn’t be her, it couldn’t be. Surely. Not at Eurovision. Though she was in Kyiv… For the rest of the evening, Serena was far more interested in a certain spot by the front of the stage, and was wishing for the camera to pan back in that direction. She was increasingly less focused on who was leading the voting. When the camera did scan back over the audience, during the closing credits, Serena felt her blood boil. How dare Bernie sodding Wolfe interrupt the one night when she was meant to get lost in the theatrics of Eurovision! How dare she!

Serena lay in bed stewing over how her perfect evening of Eurovision had been ruined by that blonde life-ruiner for a good couple of hours, before she decided to call the woman in question. Sod the fact that it was very much the early hours in Kyiv. The recipient picked up after one too many rings, in Serena’s opinion, and she launched into a full tirade.  
“Major Berenice Griselda Wolfe, lovely to see you having the time of your LIFE at that trauma unit which you claimed needed you for an extra SIX months when clearly you’re just living it up in KYIV! Just what you think you’re doing dancing at Eurovision while I sit alone watching it in my house, hoping to immerse myself in how brilliant it is, which is RUDDY DIFFICULT when certain SOMEBODIES are being brushed past in the AUDIENCE!” She stopped to gasp for breath, and Bernie cut her off.  
“Serena, I was invited as a thank you by the board, since it is held in Kyiv. I couldn’t turn it down, I love Eurovision! Would you have done?”  
“No!” Serena’s reply was rapid, and Bernie laughed down the phone.  
“Oh Serena, I’m sorry about this. I really did hope to be home, but then the bombings happened and the trauma unit needed me. I work well in military situations, you know that. I do miss you, terribly.” Serena refused to let a few words break her walls.  
“Hmmm. Well. As long as you didn’t just go to Ukraine for Eurovision…” She was stalling, and told herself it was because she was tired. “Well, I need to be up early tomorrow to rewatch the voting with Jason. He likes the numbers. And I suppose you have a trauma unit to sweep clean of glitter. Night, Bernie.” Bernie laughed down the phone.  
“Morning, Serena.”

 

It was a few months later, when Serena found herself curled up on her sofa with Bernie, their heads touching. It hadn’t been easy, and when the army medic had first returned from Kyiv, Serena had not spoken to her beyond a professional level for over a month. Bernie, to her credit, did not pursue anything, knowing she had made Serena miserable. Eventually, it had been during a karaoke night at Albie’s that they became close friends again. A group had picked the song Making Your Mind Up by Bucks Fizz, and Serena was mouthing the words along with the singers into her wine glass. Bernie, has stood next to her at the bar, and whispered into her ear about how she thought it was one of the greatest entries of all time, and a mock argument had ensued about what the greatest UK Eurovision winning entry ever was (Bernie swore by Making Your Mind Up, Serena by Save Your Kisses For Me). The day after, Serena found the scarf which Bernie had brought her back from Ukraine wrapped in paper on her desk, the final part of the peace offering. It was an official Eurovision Kyiv 2017 one, and she smiled up at her colleague, their friendship back on track. And that track had progressed to the situation where they were on Serena’s sofa, heads touching, listening to a Eurovision compilation CD, and singing along softly.

Serena wasn’t sure at which point they began kissing, but she knew that Johnny Logan’s What’s Another Year had been playing in the background. In all honesty, she didn’t care, because kissing Bernie Wolfe was as thrilling a sensation as she remembered it being. 

Later on that evening, Serena rolled her eyes as Bernie leaned over and whispered in her ear.  
“Right now I’m quite sure I could Fly On The Wings Of Love.” Serena laughed at her comment, but responded with one of her own.  
“Oh yes? Well I think you should Hold Me Now.” Bernie began fully laughing then, a throaty sound which made Serena curious.  
“Care to explain the joke, Major Wolfe?” Serena raised her eyebrows as Bernie put her arms around her.  
“How on Earth did you ever think you were heterosexual?” She was laughing in gasping breaths, and Serena felt her pulse increase. They hadn’t officially had this conversation yet, but here Bernie was, bringing it up in such a casual way! Serena frowned.  
“I don’t follow.”  
“Oh, come on, Serena! Nobody who loves Eurovision as much as you do can ever be 100% heterosexual, there’s always some LGBT sparkle in there somewhere!”  
“Oh? What makes you say that?” Serena knew that the competition had increasing numbers of homosexual fans, but didn’t follow Bernie’s logic. The blonde woman was burying her face into Serena’s shoulder to mask the laughter. Eventually, she breathed and looked back at Serena through her fringe.  
“Serena, my dear, dear Serena. Do you remember the semi-final two opening act in 2016?”  
“Of course!” Serena’s answer was rapid. That opener was one of the most amazing openers ever, better than some final openers in other years, in Serena’s opinion. Bernie grinned.   
“Serena, what’s Eurovision? It’s a multinational competition, with a collaborative mission, so much like the Olympics in a waaayyy. Sure it’s rather less athletic, though just as energetic. More colourful, and what’s the word?” Bernie raised her eyebrows at Serena, who quoted the next lyric easily.  
“Theatrical!” Bernie laughed again then, and Serena furrowed her brow once more. Bernie leaned into her, whispering into her ear.  
“The word is gay, Serena. It’s gay.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song in question is Story of ESC and I wholeheartedly recommend you watch it. This entire fic is basically an ode to the fact that I am complete and utter eurotrash. And also it would appear that I am excellent at writing fluff.


End file.
